I Forgive You
by Dearheart
Summary: She had never really had any true friends until Lucy came. She was the one who stood by her when not many other girls would, and was always there whenever she needed someone to lean on... The story of Lucy and Marjorie's friendship.
1. Valiance

Disclaimer: Narnia's not mine. And neither is Lucy or Marjorie. It's rather heart-breaking. (But Emily is TOTALLY mine! My idea! Whoohoo!)  
  
Author's Note: I was going through the Voyage of the Dawn Treader ( for the eighth time, to be exact) and I was reading the part when Lucy's trying to find the visibility-spell in the magician's book. And I stumbled across this little, forgotton scene in which Lucy sees a spell for knowing what your friends say about you. She says the spell, and then overhears her school-friend, Marjorie Preston talking about her to another girl from school, Anne Featherstone. I just love fleshing out little "deleted scenes" that other writers seem to forget in their fanfics, so I decided to write the story of Lucy's friendship with Marjorie and explore what might have happened after she hears what her friend says about her. Read and enjoy! (And review while you're at it.)

**Many, MANY thanks and hugtackles to Val Evenstar, who is now my official beta-reader and helping me to whip this awful story into shape. Thanks Val! You're my hero!**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Valiance**

"The last doorway on the left." 

Lucy laid a hand on the doorframe.

_I'm so nervous…_

She hesitated a moment, then took a deep breath to calm the tremors and stepped inside. Her eyes scanned over the strange room, taking in the sight of dusty stacks of books and carved bookshelves towering high above her. She searched for any sign of the mysterious magician the "invisibles" had warned her about, and gradually relaxed. As far as she could tell, the room was empty except for her.

_Good._

She looked at the reading-desk in the middle of the room and saw a large, leather-bound book lying on it.

_There you are. _She knew what to do.

Lucy turned around to close the door behind her. It didn't budge.

She tried again, grunting and pushing at it as hard as she could, and still it wouldn't move. She shoved at it desperately, her movements getting frantic, and finally pushed herself away from the stubborn door in frustrated anxiety. She bit her lip, then took a few breaths to calm down and regain control of herself.

_Gently now, Lu…easy does it… focus…oh Aslan, help me!_

She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.

"I am Lucy the Valiant, Queen of Narnia. I will not be afraid."

The sound of her own clear voice echoed back through corridor she had just walked through and faded away, leaving behind a spark of courage in her heart.

_I will not be afraid…_

If she had thought twice about it, she may have found it foolish to speak so loudly for fear of the magician discovering her. But something in her no longer cared. She slowly turned back and made her way to the reading desk, trying to ignore that huge, gaping door at her back. She gazed at the book again in dismay.

"It's so big! It could take me days and weeks to find that spell; and I already feel as if I've been here for hours."

_I just want to get it over with. _

But her fears quickly gave way to her curiosity when she brushed her fingertips over the soft, brown leather and felt the sensation of magic tingling under her skin. Her hands trembled slightly in anticipation as she undid the two leaden clasps that held the book shut. It swung open quite easily, releasing the faint scent of crisp, smooth paper. And oh, what a book it was! Every page was covered with clear, graceful handwriting and beautiful pictures in rich colors. There was no title page or title, and the spells began straight away.

_Hmmm…"wash hands by moonlight in a silver basin"…_

* * *

_Earlier that day…_

"Margie! Maaaargie!"

Marjorie Preston sighed and finished folding her blouse.

"What is it now, Emmy?" she shouted back, rolling her eyes in annoyance as she packed it into her suitcase.

"Help," came a small voice.

She groaned in frustration and left her packing behind…again.

"This had better be good, Emily Jane," she called, as she briskly walked from her room to her little sister's, "because this the _third time_ you've bothered me, the train leaves in half an hour, and I _still_ haven't finished—oh."

There was Emily, grinning up at her with two front teeth missing, standing in the middle of a disaster area. Clothes were flung every which way and hanging out of her dresser drawers, and her suitcase was hardly what one would call "packed". "Stuffed" would be a better word.

"Margie, my _th_uitcase won't clo_th_e."

"Oh Emmy," she sighed, "you should have asked for help in the first place. You know you're too little to pack your own bags."

"I am not too little!" her sister huffed indignantly, "I am _th_ix year_th_ old, _th_o that mean_th_ I'm only four year_th_ younger than you and you jolly well know it! And I _can_ pack my own bag; I ju_th_ need help clo_th_ing it."

"Oh I don't have time for this." Marjorie turned and ran to the stairs. "Mum!" she hollered over the banister, "Emmy needs help packing and I can't do it because I have to finish my own packing!"

"Alright, I'll be up in a moment dear!"

"Margie, I ju_th_ want—"

"Mum's coming, be patient!" Marjorie ran back to her room and put the last few things into her suitcase. "Alright, what am I forgetting?" She took off her glasses and polished them against her cardigan as she tried to remember what it was. She went through the checklist in her mind.

_Let's see…comb, toothbrush, hairbrush, sketchbook, pencils, picture-books…_

"Oh, that's right; my treasure box!" She put her glasses back on and dove under the bed, shoving aside toys and boxes, and pulled out a small, rectangular cigar-box. She carefully stood up and set it on her bed, handling it as though it contained the Queen's crown jewels. She lifted the lid and peered inside, making sure that everything was there; for the contents inside were more important to her than any trinkets the queen could offer.

There was her great-grandmother's sterling-silver locket, an embroidered coin-purse with her initials on it, a seashell from last year's trip to the seaside, various beads and buttons that looked pretty, a coin from America that her best friend's sister had mailed to her from New York, a black-and-white photograph of her with her best friend, Lucy Pevensie, and the friendship bracelet Lucy had made for her last school-term.

Marjorie took out the picture and sat on the edge of her bed as she gazed at it, taking a moment to let the memories flood her mind. She smiled fondly at the friend in the picture; it was only two weeks into the summer and she missed her already. She had never really had any true friends until Lucy came. Oh, how she wished she had the courage and bravery Lucy had! She was the one friend who stood by her when not many other girls would, and was always there whenever she needed someone to lean on. There was something different about her; something she couldn't quite place her finger on. Lucy was so—so heroic.

_Hmm,_ she wondered. _Is "heroic" the right word? No, that's not quite it. What's that one word I'm looking for?_ Her mind drifted back to one particular day in school, when she had been crying in the lavatory…

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_Plink…plink…_

One by one, the tears fell from her eyes into the sink, where she was cleaning off her muddy glasses.

_Plink…_

The laughs of the school kept burning in her ears…

_"You blind, pathetic, fat girl!"_

_"Four-eyes, four-eyes…"_

She angrily scrubbed harder at the lenses, chocking back the sobs in her throat. The water in the sink grew dark with swirling mud. Suddenly, the door opened.

"Marjorie?"

She jumped and spun around abruptly, then sighed.

"Hullo Lucy," she mumbled.

"I've been looking for you everywhere." Lucy looked at her for a moment and saw the tears, then shut the door behind her and locked it. A frown of concern crossed her face as she went over to her and laid a comforting hand on her arm. "What's wrong, Margie? What happened?"

Marjorie shook her head miserably as more tears filled her eyes and ran down her face.

"There, there," Lucy murmured soothingly, taking a handkerchief from her pocket and wiping them away. "It's alright, I'm right here…" She glanced down and noticed the dirty spectacles she was holding. " Marjorie!" she gasped, "what happened?"

Marjorie sniffed and dashed away another tear. "S-some of the bigger girls were making fun of me…a-about my spectacles. And someone grabbed them and dropped them in the mud…"

"That's horrible! I wish I'd found you sooner."

"It doesn't matter." Her shaky voice became bitter. She turned back towards the bathroom mirror and scowled at her reflection. "I'm just a 'pathetic, fat girl' anyway."

"Marjorie Carol Preston!" Lucy took her firmly by the shoulders and turned her around. Marjorie could feel her friend looking at her, and she slowly raised her tear-stained eyes. A tingling thrill ran down her spine as her gaze met Lucy's intense, compassionate eyes. "That's not you talking, that's them. You and I both know that those things are not true. You aren't skinny, but you're not fat either and you are certainly not pathetic."

Marjorie lowered her eyes.

"Yes I am," she whispered.

"No, you're not!" Lucy gave her a gentle shake. "Don't you dare believe those lies!"

"Than what am I, Lucy?" She looked back up into her face, a look of brokenness in her eyes.

Lucy's voice was steady as she answered, "You are Marjorie, a girl with loving brown eyes, a sweet singing voice and a kind heart. You're the person who can say every tongue twister and knows every cat's-cradle trick in the world. And most of all, you are my friend. Please, won't you believe me…instead of them?"

Marjorie looked back at her in bewildered, hopeful amazement, and then burst into tears again. Lucy pulled her into a tight hug and held her until the sobs went away.

"Oh Lucy," she smiled tearfully, "I don't know what I'd do without you." She sniffed again. Lucy just squeezed her shoulder, and smiled back…   


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Marjorie put the photo back in her treasure-box, still thinking of how to best describe her friend.

_What is that word? Kind…courageous…true…valor…no, valorous? No, that's not quite right…_ She stared hard at it before closing the box, racking her brain for that one, perfect word…

And then finally, it came to her:

_Valiant! That's the word. __Lucy__ is so—valiant._

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Author's Note: Ta-da! The New and Improved (aka beta-d) Version! Hope you liked it! (R&R please...?) 


	2. Weakness

Disclaimer: Not mine, blah blah blah...

Author's Note: Yay, chapter 2! In which Lucy almost turns into a Mary Sue, and Marjorie messes up! Oh no! Read further to find out what happenes...if you dare... (dun dun dun...) Shout-outs and cyber-brownies for everyone after the chapter! Reviews are lovely!

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**Chapter 2: Weakness**

_Hmm…"enchanted sleep"…no, that's not it._

Lucy skimmed through the spells on the page, trying to find the one for visibility; but no such luck. She had gone on for about thirty pages and seen lots of spells, such as how to cure warts, find buried treasure or control the weather, but so far none had been the one she was looking for. She took a moment to admire the pictures, then turned to the next page.

"Oh!" Lucy gasped. The page she had just turned to was such a blaze of colors and pictures that she hardly noticed the writing. Her eyes darted all over, not sure what to look at first…then she saw the first few words:

_An infallible spell to make beautiful her that uttereth it beyond the lot of mortals._

An old, familiar, green-eyed feeling stirred inside her, causing her to peer closer at the pictures. They had seemed crowded and muddlesome before, but now she began to see them quite clearly:

In the first picture, she saw a girl who looked just like her, standing at a reading desk and reading a huge book.

In the second, Lucy (for the girl was Lucy) was chanting or reciting something, with a terrible look on her face.

In the third, the immortal beauty had come to her. And though the pictures had looked small at first, the Lucy in the picture now seemed quite as big as the real Lucy. The girl in the picture turned and looked straight into Lucy's face with her new, sparkling sapphire eyes; and Lucy looked back at her with her own, simple, gray-blue ones. They held each other's gaze for what seemed like an hour (but was only a moment), and then finally Lucy sighed and turned away, too dazzled to keep looking into that gorgeous face.

_She's so—beautiful._

She bit her lip as an inner struggle began within her.

_All I have to do is say a few simple words…_

Lucy looked back at the page, still fighting with her conscience.

_I can finally be pretty, even as pretty as Susan if I wanted. She's always been the beauty of the family. _

And now the pictures came crowding on her, thick and fast; visions of the beauty she had seen began overwhelming her mind. She saw herself throned on high at a great tournament in Calormene, and all the kings of the world fought because of her loveliness. After that it turned from tournaments to real wars, and all of Narnia and Archenland, Telmar and Calormene, Galma and Terebinthia, were laid waste with the fury of the kings and dukes and great lords who fought for her favor. It changed again and Lucy, still beautiful beyond the lot of mortals, was back in England; and Susan came back from America. She looked just like the real Susan, only plainer, with a nastier face…and there was no trace of the Gentle Queen in her eyes. She was jealous of the dazzling beauty of Lucy, but that didn't matter because no one cared anything about her now. Everyone's attention was now devoted to her sister.

The real Lucy swallowed hard, trying to stop the squirmy feeling in her chest. The temptation of saying the spell seemed to outweigh every reason for not saying it. And she wanted so badly to try it…

"I _will_ say the spell," said Lucy defiantly, trying to shake off the "little red flag" that was waving in her mind. "I will say the spell and I _don't care_."

_After all, it's just a beauty-spell,_ she assured herself; even though she strongly felt she shouldn't do it. _What harm could it do?_

But when she looked back at the opening words, there in the middle of the writing (where she was sure there had been no picture before), she found the great face of a lion, _The_ Lion…Aslan Himself…staring into her eyes. Her heart began to pound in her chest. Aslan was painted such a bright gold that He seemed to be alive, coming towards her out of the page. He was growling, and all of His terrible, dangerous teeth were bared. Her stomach lurched in fear, and she quickly turned over the page.

She then realized she was holding her breath, and let it out. A wave of secret, guilty shame washed over her. She stopped a moment and looked behind her to see if anyone had seen her foolishness; she felt so afraid that someone was watching her. Her cheeks burned, and her heart now felt as if an invisible hand was squeezing it.

_Was _He_ watching me? The whole time? Oh dear… _

She desperately hoped not.

_It would be terrible if…if…oh, never mind. I must get on._

She shook her head and continued her search. She'd learned her lesson about looks.

A little later, she saw a spell that would let you know what your friends said about you…

* * *

_Meanwhile, back in our world…_

"Margie, when i_th_ the train coming? I'm bored."

"Stop asking me that question, Emily! It's coming; just wait. And stop pouting."

Emily huffed and slumped in her seat. Marjorie just kept tackling her cat's cradle string, trying to ignore her Mother's warning glances and her older brother's smirk. This went on for about ten more minutes, and then she finally groaned in boredom and let the string fall from her well-practiced fingers. It turned out their train was actually due in one hour, not half an hour; and so they were stuck waiting there a while longer. It was torture, having to sit around and wait for so long; with carting and luggage and boxes all over a dreary railway platform.

"I wish that bloody train would hurry up," muttered her brother.

"Jack, watch your language!" said Mother reprovingly, even though they all shared the same thought. Marjorie put the string in her pocket and sat back, letting her mind wander.

_I wish Lucy were here,_ she thought. _Now would be a good time for one of her stories._

She smiled and remembered. Oh, Lucy told the most wonderful stories; stories of adventure and magic, of wonderful creatures and animals that could talk, of faraway countries, cool woods, green hills, sunlit seas and shining castles. When Lucy became a storyteller, the dreary, ordinary world around them was forgotten and replaced with the vibrant world her words created. Those stories made them both forget whatever troubles they faced that day, and let them escape to somewhere better. And though Marjorie never said it aloud, she knew that telling those stories especially made Lucy feel better…

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"_Princess Lucy, Princess Lucy!"_

_What's all the noise about?_ Marjorie wondered. She dropped the chalk she'd been drawing with and made her way to the other side of the playground.

She soon saw a crowd of school-girls (the same ones who had teased her about her glasses) dancing around a blond-haired figure, laughing and shouting at her. Her heart skipped a beat--it was Lucy. They jostled around Lucy, chanting and laughing gleefully. Lucy's face grew pink. "You do not understand!" Marjorie heard her shout above the noise. "I am no princess! I'm…" Lucy stopped herself, and seemed to decide not to finish her sentence. They all laughed even harder and chanted louder,

"_Princess Lucy, Princess Lucy!"_ But she stood tall with her chin up and her shoulders back and let them tease. Marjorie looked around her frantically. She had to do something! She caught sight of the school mistress and ran over to her.

"Miss Catherine!" she shouted, "Help! Miss Catherine…"

"Good gracious, child!" the Mistress exclaimed in her thin, creaky voice. "There's no need to shout so. This is a lady's boarding-school, not a circus! Now what is it? Be quick."

"Some of the other girls are making fun of Lucy. They're shouting and laughing at her and…please, won't you stop them?"

"What! Shouting and laughing? I'll not tolerate such insolent, unladylike behavior at this school." The old woman put her spectacles on her thin, pointed nose, drew herself up and marched over to where the trouble was, with a stern glint in her small, beady eyes. Marjorie followed.

The noise faltered as the children noticed the Mistress heading their way. The crowd broke up and they scattered in all directions, but not without shouting behind them "Goodbye, _Princess!_"

"I'm not a princess!" Lucy finally shouted after them.

"Come back this instant," called the Mistress as she tried to chase them down. Marjorie made her way to Lucy. She noticed her proud head droop a little, and saw her face grow sad, almost frustrated; and as she came to her friend's side, she saw her lips move in silent words. And if she had been a little closer, she would have heard Lucy whisper,

_"I'm a queen…"_

"Are you alright, Lucy?" she asked anxiously. Lucy sighed and turned away with mist in her gray-blue eyes.

"I don't think I am alright," she said quietly. "But…I shall try."

Marjorie hesitated, then timidly asked, "What happened?" She remembered the shouts of "Princess!" and added, "Were you talking like a royal lady again?"

"Yes," said Lucy. She gave a short laugh, but the sound was harsh and forced. "I was remem—I mean, imagining again, and my mouth got carried away with my mind. One of the meaner girls heard, and started teasing me about it…and then the other girls saw and joined in."

"I'm sorry, Lucy."

"It's alright; it doesn't matter now. At least the head mistress will take care of them."

Marjorie looked down and studied her shoes, then said shyly,

"You're a princess to me."

Lucy smiled. "I'm not the only one at this school, Margie." Marjorie smiled back. They were both silent for a minute, and then Marjorie asked,

"Lucy? Please, could you…will you tell me a story?"

Something flickered across Lucy's face, and a slow smile tugged at her mouth.

"Alright, Margie. Which one would you like to hear?"

"Will you tell me the one about the evil witch, and the lion, and the magic wardrobe? I do love that one."

"Me too, Marjorie," said Lucy softly, as they sat down under a tree. "Me too." She crossed her legs and breathed in deeply, and the story began. "Once upon a time, there were four children…"

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Marjorie remembered how the color came into Lucy's cheeks and the way her eyes grew bright while telling her tales, her storyteller's voice rising and falling and sweeping them both away to another place, and the wistful, faraway look that would come in her eyes at certain points. Marjorie wasn't sure why, but it was almost as if…as if Lucy were homesick.

_Whooo! Whoooooo!_

"Hullo! Margie! Wake up, Dolly Day-dream! The train's arrived."

A hand waved in front of her vision interrupting her thoughts and she jumped, startled. She turned to glare at her brother and then stood up, clutching her suitcase in one hand and her art supplies in the other.

"_All abooaard!"_

"_Tickets, please…"_

Tickets were punched, luggage was taken and they all filed into the third-class carriage and made their way to their seats. They had almost reached them when Marjorie's pencil box slipped from her hand and crashed on the floor, scattering pencils everywhere. She immediately dropped to her knees and began cleaning up the mess, her face red with embarrassment.

"Marjorie, are you alright?" asked her mother.

"Don't worry, I'm fine," she answered. "You go on ahead; I'll be there in a moment." She reached under a seat and grabbed another runaway pencil as the rest of her family continued down the narrow aisle. She soon found the last one, shoved it in her box and rose to her feet. She made her way down the aisle and was almost to her seat when she heard a voice exclaim,

"Marjorie!"

She knew that voice, and remembered the other features that went with it: the blond braids, the turned-up nose, the haughty smile, the smart, smooth manner. She turned around and was not at all surprised to see Anne Featherstone looking back at her.

"Marjorie Preston!" she exclaimed again, with a huge, happy-to-see-you mask of a smile plastered across her face. "Fancy seeing _you_ here!"

"Hullo again, Anne," said Marjorie, trying to smile back. "Good to see you again."

"Yes indeed! Can you believe the Holidays are finally here? Why, it seems only yesterday we were all buried in Math and English and all that rot."

Marjorie just nodded.

"I say," said Anne, "you _will_ sit with me won't you? I am quite bored and it would be nice for both of us to have someone to chat with."

"Um…" Marjorie looked over at her Mother for permission, and she smiled and nodded yes. "Alright," she said, sitting down next to her school-mate. Just then, the whistle sounded again and with a jerk and a slow _chug, chug, chug,_ the train started forward. Soon it was speeding down the track with a _clickety-clack, clickety-clack,_ and Marjorie could see the telegraph poles flicking past. She looked away from the window and down at her knees. She felt rather nervous and scared about what Anne might think about her. Anne Featherstone was quite popular and influential with the girls at school. Marjorie had always longed to be accepted and liked by her and her friends, but her friendship with Lucy had always prevented that. As long as Lucy was in the picture, she would never gain their complete approval. She often felt torn between the two.

But for now she pushed away her fears, quickly put on her smartest, smoothest attitude, and they began chatting.

"The girls and I have missed you, Marjorie," said Anne, in a cool voice.

"Really?" asked Marjorie, trying to keep the eagerness out of her voice.

"Oh yes. Shall we see anything of you this term, or are you still going to be all taken up with Lucy Pevensie?"

"Don't know what you mean by _taken up_," protested Marjorie.

"Oh yes, you do," said Anne, smugly. "You were _crazy_ about her last term."

"No I wasn't," said Marjorie, rolling her eyes. "I've got more sense than _that_. Hmm, not a bad little kid in her way. But I _was_ getting pretty tired of her before the end of the term."

The moment those words left her mouth, she heard a faint, far-off echo of a voice in her head…

"…_Two-faced little beast!"_

And she felt horrible.

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Author's Note: Lucy turning into a Mary Sue...that's scary... shudders Anyways, I hope this chapter was as good as the first one. I was kinda nervous about it. (chews on fingernails) Hope y'all enjoyed it! Please be nice and drop a review! And thanks to everyone who did review...you guys rock!! Time for shout-outs... 

**Almyra:** You are so awesome! Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed Emily's lisp (I did too).

**elecktrum:** Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you like this idea, and that you liked the hankerchief thing in the last chappie. I couldn't resist putting that little detail in.

**Cirolane:** Thanks! Hope I updated soon enough for you.

**Western Arawen:** Thank you! I'm glad you liked the way I portrayed Lucy.

**The North Wyn:** Thanks! Wow...Emily's lisp is popular... :-) Oh, you noticed the little Susan detail I put in the treasure box scene; clever you! Yay! I've also loved that VDT scene (and I will be rather miffed if it's not in the movie).

**Kelev:** Thanks!

**ChabeMica:** Thank you so much! I'm really glad you enjoyed it! I hope this fic does teach people about real friendship; that would be cool!

**FaithfulPureLight:** thanks

**Swanwhite2:** Wow, thank you so much! I'm glad to hear that I captured Lucy's personality so well. She is a character who is dear to me and close to my heart; I'd be terribly disappointed if I didn't portray her properly.

Thanks again everbody! Stay tuned for chapter 4! Keep reviewing! You all ROCK:-)


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